The Gambler
by ladybrit
Summary: A story inspired by the song "The Gambler."
1. Chapter 1

The Gambler

This is a story inspired by the song of the same name, written by Don Schlitz. Several artists have recorded it over the years, most famously, Kenny Rogers in 1978.

**Chapter 1**

The air was hot and humid, typical for midsummer, as Marshal Matt Dillon waited at the almost deserted Santa Fe depot in Wichita, Kansas. He had been in that town for just over a week. It had been a long week that involved testifying at a murder trial. Unpleasant as that had been, the worse knowledge, always there in the back of his mind, was that when he arrived back home in Dodge, the one person he really wanted to see would not be there.

The trial had gone well and his prisoner and been sentenced to death, but that was about the only thing that had turned out right. He had to stay in Wichita to witness the hanging, something he hated to do, and that had cost him an extra two days, not that he thought two days would have changed anything very much.

His thoughts went back to about a time about three weeks before. Kitty had arranged a vacation of sorts for the two of them. She was going to a friend's wedding in New Orleans and had convinced Matt to come along. The department certainly owed him a weeks leave and although he was not keen on big social gatherings, the thought of a week with Kitty to himself, away from the prying eyes of Dodge, was very appealing. Then the telegram had arrived. It was two days before they were supposed to leave and a man he had hunted down and sent to Wichita for trial, was scheduled to come up before the Judge in four days time. No way he could get out of it. He had to go to give evidence, after all he had witnessed the crime, hunted the man down and brought him in. He had been there in Wichita on other business when the murder took place. That was just his luck, it had come back to haunt him. Kitty had been less than understanding – in his opinion – about the whole affair. He had no choice in the matter and had to go to Wichita. He had not heard from her since. She had told him not to expect her to be there in Dodge when he got back, she didn't know when, or even if she would return. The last time he saw her, she was in her room over the Long Branch, packing clothes in a small trunk for the trip, all excited, then he broke the news to her. She had cried and then got angrier than he had ever seen her. She threw him out and slammed the door, telling him not to come back.

He did not see her after that. She never even came by the office, as she usually did, to say goodbye when he had to leave town for a few days.

The train was pulling in now and the noise from the steam engine broke into his reverie bringing him back to the present, cold and unwelcoming as it was. The locomotive ground and screeched its way to a halt and the Marshal, together with the few other people at the depot, climbed aboard. He walked through the first car and into the second. He found an empty window seat opposite a lone figure, an old man, dressed like a gambler. Right now the man was half asleep, Matt watched as he adjusted his hat to cover his eyes, indicating that he did not want to be disturbed.

Dillon took the vacant seat and stared through the window into the darkness beyond. He was tired after the stress of the day. He hated to watch a hanging even if the man was a murderer. It always left him feeling ill and bad tempered. He leaned back in his seat and, closing his eyes, tried to shut the world out for a while.

The miles ticked slowly by. Neither the Gambler nor the Marshal found the inner peace needed for sleep. Eventually the gambler sat up and looked at his fellow traveller.

Matt sensed eyes being focused on him and lifted his hat to see what was going on.

"'Evening Mister, you need something?" he asks.

"I was just watchin' you that's all. Something's troubling you bad, I'd say."

Matt said nothing, just sat there, the same picture running through his mind over and over again. Dodge without Kitty – well it wasn't something he liked to think about.

"I'm not trying to pry or anything. I just know a troubled man when I see one."

Matt continued to look at the man but said nothing.

The gambler was unperturbed by the lack of a response and calmly resumed his vigil, staring blankly out of the window, his eyes unseeing.

After a while he returned his gaze to the man sitting opposite from him.

"You know I've been a gambler all my life and there's a few things it has taught me. One is that a man's eyes can tell you a lot about what he's thinking and also a lot about who that man is. I think I pretty well know who you are now."

Time passes slowly. The Gambler just sits there, then he coughs, a bone rattling cough. It goes on for a while until finally he catches his breath.

"Mister, you got any whisky on you."

"No but I can go get you some, hang on a minute,"

The Marshal gets up from his seat and makes his way to the next carriage where there is a small bar. He buys a bottle of whisky and then heads back to his uninvited travelling companion. The man is still sitting there. His cough seems to have subsided.

"Here try this."

The Gambler grabs at the whisky bottle and gratefully swallows down several large gulps before he removes it from his lips.

"I'm indebted to you." He says wiping his sleeve across his mouth. He rests for a minute before continuing.

"Listen Mister I don't know what is troubling you, and I'm not about to ask, but I am gonna give you a little advice. There's something you learn playing the cards for a living, something that applies to most of life. It took me a while to figure it out but for what its worth I'll pass it on to you." He coughs again and takes another swallow from the bottle before continuing.

"There are some cards in the deck that are more important to you than others, you need to hang on to them. Some you don't really need, you can get along without them, and so you can let them go. The hard part is learning to tell the difference. It's the same in life, some things are real important and you can't let them slip through your fingers, other things, well you don't have to be so careful with. The secret in poker and in life is to be able to tell the difference between the two."

He starts to cough again.

"You alright, stranger?" The Marshal asks him.

"Yeh I'll be better in a minute." He takes another swig from the bottle and clears his throat.

"You know what, I've gambled all my life. Enjoyed it too. Now, well…. I ain't doing so well. The Doc in Wichita told me I got about three months to live. Guess the best thing I could look forward to would be to go to sleep one night and just not wake up."

Not much you can say to that, so Matt just sat quietly and waited.

It had started to get daylight, they would be in Dodge soon. He couldn't help but think about the gamblers words. You had to figure what was important in your life and hang on to it; he sure hadn't done a good job at that. The most important thing in his life had slipped through his fingers all right, and he did nothing to stop it from happening. The Gambler's words rang very true.

He stared out the window at the early dawn. The landscape was familiar. Another half hour or so and they would be in Dodge. He would be alone. He leaned back and closed his eyes. This badge he wore and the woman he loved, both were important to him but somehow it seemed he would have to choose one over the other. Somewhere in there the gamblers words had a lot of sense. Some things were so important, you had to hang on to them no matter what, other things you just had to let go. It sounded easy, but it was far from simple. Unconsciously his fingers drifted to the big badge on his shirt. So many responsibilities came with it. To begin with he had accepted them willingly, now they were becoming a burden, still it was hard to just throw them off. It went deeper than just taking off a star, so many people depended on him now, that was what he couldn't walk away from. At least that's what he told himself.

"Dodge City next stop. Next stop Dodge City"

The announcement from the conductor interrupted his thinking. He looked over at the Gambler. The old man must have fallen asleep. He looked more closely; he could not see any rise and fall of his chest. He stood up and leaned over to shake the man's shoulder. No response, the man was limp. He lifted an eyelid, no reaction. The gambler seemed to have got his last wish. He had gone to sleep and not woken up.

He found the conductor and explained what had happened. They could take the body off at Dodge. It might be best if he moved the other passengers to the next car.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Gambler**

Chapter 2

Matt found some men to take the Gambler's body over to Percy Crump's Funeral Parlor, and arranged for Doc to go over there and perform an autopsy, then he went along to his office to catch up on the mail that had piled up since he'd been gone.

Chester was making coffee as he entered.

"It's good to have you back, Mister Dillon. Did you have a good trip?"  
Matt didn't want to explain that testifying at a trial and witnessing a hanging was not anybody's idea of a good trip, but he didn't say so.

"Yes, sure Chester, everything went just fine."

"You had breakfast yet Mister Dillon, I thought you might like to go over to Delmonico's."

"Not right now – but you go on," seeing the pile of mail on his desk he thought of the obvious excuse, "It looks like I have a stack of work to do there."

"All right – well I think I'll head on over then."

Dillon was grateful to be left alone. He sat at the desk and started going through the mail. It was difficult to keep his mind on what he was supposed to be doing, but he figured that staying busy would keep his thoughts from straying to the Long Branch and the lady that would be missing from there. He knew he had to accept the situation, he didn't blame her, after all several times he himself had told her that she would be better off without him. He would just have to get used to it.

He had got through the first stack of mail when familiar footsteps came from the boardwalk and Doc put his head around the door.

"Glad to see you got back all right."

"Yes," says Dillon trying to sound as if everything is quite normal, "I got in on the early train."

He didn't have much else to add and hated to ask the obvious question. He wished the elderly physician would go away and leave him alone. Doc was very perceptive and it took a lot to deceive his incredible powers of observation.

Dillon got up from his desk and walked over to the filing cabinet with about a dozen new wanted posters he has just received. He starts to put them in place.

"Matt," says Doc, but before he can continue the Marshal interrupts him.

"I know Doc, don't say it. This badge gets in the way all the time, but there isn't much I can do about it. Kitty is a grown woman and she has to make her own decisions, I have no power over that. So just leave me alone for now. I'll have to work it out for myself."

"All right if that's what you want." Doc is not easily put off; he goes over and lifts the coffee pot.

"Mind if I make some more?" he asks.

"Woe now – I have tasted your coffee, Doc, just let me make it."

The physician went to sit at the small table in the middle of the room. He had managed to get himself another ten minutes or so in the Marshal's company.

"How did things go at the trial," he asked to change the subject.

"Fine I suppose, if hanging a man is to your liking."

The doctor realized that he wasn't going to get very far with that conversation, so picked up an old newspaper and started to read. Soon a mug of coffee was placed on the table in front of him. He was hoping Matt would sit down also, but instead the Marshal made his way back to the desk and began to work on another stack of mail.

Doc decided he was wasting his time. Finishing his coffee, he got to his feet.

"Well I guess I'll see you later Matt," he said as he left the office.

Matt continued with his duties for the next week or so. Everything gets taken care of as usual. He makes his rounds every evening and every morning. He makes minimal conversation with the business owners, but carefully stays away from the Long Branch and seldom goes to Delmonico's. He even ignores Chester half the time, and tries to avoid the physician at all costs.

Doc had no idea where Kitty went. She would not tell him for the very reason that he now wanted to find her. He certainly understood her anger at Matt and his badge, but wondered if she knew how deeply that overgrown Marshal cared about her, how his world was blown apart by her departure.

He hated to see his friend moping around the town and feared that his long ingrained 'sixth sense' for danger that may be lurking around the next corner, would be compromised by his emotional turmoil.

Doc was leaning against the bar in the Long Branch a few evenings later. Sam came up to him.

"How's the Marshal doing?" he asks.

"How should I know," Doc replies, " he won't come near me anymore."

"I probably shouldn't tell you this, but Miss Kitty is coming back to Dodge in a day or so. She has to take care of some business here in town. She didn't want anyone to know, but, well Doc, I just had to tell you."

"Well that's great Sam. I'm happy to hear it."

"Don't be too happy, Doc, I think she is planning to sell this place. She's coming into town to sign the papers. The buyer is supposed to be arriving any day now"  
"Well now by golly, she just can't do that."

" I thought maybe you could persuade her to stay here Doc, we all need Miss Kitty."

"I'll certainly see what I can do, but you know that Kitty is a very determined and independent young lady and once her mind is made up it is not easy to change it."

I drain the glass and put it back on the bar "Thanks for the beer Sam." I need to go think. As I walk out onto Front Street, I see three men riding into town. Each has a star on his chest just visible enough to catch the evening sun. I am not sure what is going on. One of the men comes over and leaning from his horse, asks me where the US Marshal's office is. I point towards it.

"It's that brick building across the street towards the stage depot."

He thanks me for the information and rejoins his fellow riders. I watch as they head down to Matt's office, tie their horses up and make their way inside. That is strange, one Marshal and two Deputies. It is not like the Attorney Generals office to send all those lawmen into one state, let alone one town. Something is about to happen.

I make my way towards my office. Moss Grimmick is coming towards me from the stable. "Did you see that, Doc?" he asks me.

Fortunately I have a toothpick in my pocket to chew on – that always helps me think better.

"Yes Moss I did, something big is going on."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Gambler**

Chapter 3

Matt was finishing up some reports, at least he was trying to – his mind kept wandering all over the place. He got up to check the coffee pot. It was empty, so picking it up he heads out back to empty the old grounds. Chester hadn't been around since early this morning. The Marshal guessed that was mostly his own fault. Since he had got back to Dodge, he knew he had been moody and seemed to get angry over the slightest little thing. No, he couldn't blame Chester. When he returned, three men were standing in his office. At first he had no idea what was going on, but then he caught sight of the badges on their chests. One US Marshall and two Deputies.

"Good evening gentlemen," he said, "Matt Dillon," he reaches out to shake hands.

The visiting Marshal steps forward,

"Dillon, my name is Buck Cummins, these deputies are Tiber Ross and George Kincaid."

"Have yourselves a seat." Matt indicated the few chairs scattered around the office. "I was just about to put some coffee on the stove."

"Marshall," says Cummins, "We are here to ask a kind of favor – at the request of the Attorney Generals office. You are not obliged to take part in what we are proposing, but honestly the Service thinks you are the one man that can do the job."

"Go on," said Matt as he put a little more wood in the stove to heat the coffee.

The Marshal continued, "For some time now we have had problems with a band of renegades that are hiding out around the Beaver River south west of here just inside Oklahoma Territory. As you know that is pretty much a no man's land. These men have been ransacking small villages, white settlers and Indian alike. They have been stealing, raping the women and killing the men. They are brutal. They seem to be trying to create an atmosphere of chaos and lawlessness for no apparent reason. A man called Jeremiah Sanchez leads them. We don't know a lot about him, or even if that is his real name. The only thing we do know is that he has a real grudge against the law, and he is really fast with a gun. His band of renegades is growing. A lot of young men, dissatisfied with the hard life they have been living or seeking the excitement they experienced during the war, are joining him. It won't be long, Marshal, before his activities expand into Kansas."

"Where do I come in?"

"We have tried several times to flush him out from his hiding place down there. He is a clever man and usually sends his men out to do all the work. We have set traps for him, but he always fails to show. His one weakness is his pride. We know he is fast with a gun. He thinks he is the best there is and will always come out to answer a credible challenge. Twice we have had our best marksmen up against him, and both times they lost their lives. He is fast Matt. Worse still he is always protected by a group of heavily armed men. After the fight he just disappears into the crowd before we have been able to get another shot at him."

Matt has a good idea where this is going. The coffee is ready and he takes the opportunity to pause the conversation as he pours three cups and hands them around before pouring one for himself.

"Go on," he invites the other man.

"Its like this. You have a legitimate reason to go after him. He is moving closer to your territory. You have quite a reputation as a lawman and for your speed with a gun. It would be quite a feather in his cap if Sanchez could take you down. We think he would rise to the challenge."

"So you want me to go down there and put my life on the line to catch this man."

"Yes, but have no doubt, he won't be taken alive, you'd have to kill him."

"What about Dodge? It sounds like this is going to take a while, to set up. What is going to happen to my town?"

"We thought of that, Ross here is going to stay in Dodge and take care of things while we are away. Kincaid and I will come with you. We cannot take an army down there with us – it would be a massacre. Those men know the terrain so well that they could have a whole company of soldiers taken down before anyone realized what was happening. We figured that the three of us could set up a camp down there on the Oklahoma line and put the word out that you are looking for Sanchez. They would not take any notice of three of us – not worth their while. We know that Sanchez is totally revered by his men. He has no second in command. They all take orders directly from him. Once they are in the group, there is no backing out. He rules his men by fear.

Our feeling is that they would all scatter and become harmless if we could eliminate him. Afterwards we could probably pick most of them up and send them to trial."

'Hrmmph," said Matt – he had had enough of trials. "When would you want to leave?"

"Soon as possible, maybe in the morning, if you can manage it."

"I need to think about it. Are you staying over at the Dodge house?"

"It looks like it's the only place in town."

"Pretty much," he agrees. "All right. I'll come over and give you my answer in a couple of hours."

The Marshals stand up to leave.

"Very well," says Cummins, "That's fair. We'll see you later, oh," he says turning round again, "Where can we stable our horses for the night."

"Moss Grimmick's – at the other end of Front Street, you can't miss it."

The three men leave and Dillon is left to think over his options. Of course he knows already what he is going to do.

After a while he heads along to Doc's office. He really hasn't spoken to the man since he returned to Dodge about ten days ago, but the physician has been his friend for several years now, indeed saved his life many times over, so somehow he feels he needs to explain to him something of what he is about to do. Just incase.

He walks along the boardwalk, and almost by habit glances over the doors to look into the Long Branch. Sam is there and plenty of the towns people he knows, but the one person he really cares about is still missing. It is like a dagger in his chest when he thinks about it.

He notices the light on in Doc's office and goes up the steps.

The elderly man is sitting at his desk reading, something he often does in the evening if he has no patients to look after.

" 'Evening Doc," he says.

"Well come in, pull up a chair. I was beginning to think you were never going to talk to me again."

"I'm sorry, this last week has not been easy. Now I have something I need to get you to do for me. Doc, I guess you saw those three federal lawmen ride into town earlier."

"Well yes, could hardly miss them."

"They have a job they need me to do. Seems I am the only one who has a chance of pulling it off. I have to go, do you understand?"

"I think so."

" The situation an' all being what it is, it does give me a chance to leave town for a while and get away from … well you understand."  
Yes Matt, I understand." Doc wondered if he should tell him about Kitty coming back, but that would mean telling him that she was planning to sell the Long Branch and he knew his friend would not think he had the right to try to change her mind. In the end he decided to say nothing. Maybe it was better this way.

"Doc, I don't know how to say this, but if I don't come back, will you tell her – if you see her of course – how I feel, and, well, if I am not around any more she'll free to find a better life."

"Now wait a minute, she knows she has been free all along, and she stayed here all these years, at least in part because of you. It was her choice then, just as it is her choice to leave now. You might could do something about that if you put your mind to it. And by the way, there are other people in this town who consider themselves to be your friend, so you better be making sure you get back here, okay?"

"Yes Doc. I probably need to tell you there will be a deputy Marshal in town while I am gone. His name is Tiber Ross. Perhaps you could tell Chester if you see him. He's hardly been by the office in days.

"That's because every time he tries to say anything to you, you bite his head off. But yes I'll tell him."

Dillon stands up and then reaches in his vest pocket.

"Here give this to Chester, I owe him some back pay." He hands over some notes. "S'long Doc."

He turns quickly and heads to the door. For once the physician is lost for words.

Next morning three men head out of town just as the sun is coming up. All three have stars on their chests that catch a glitter from the early light. They have three spare horses in tow.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Gambler**

Chapter 4

The men rode hard for the next two days. By changing horses frequently they managed to ride about ten hours a day until they could make camp close to the Beaver River on the third evening.

They were just inside the Oklahoma Territory when they camped. This was a lawless, pretty much untamed area. The plan was that Matt would ride into one of the few small settlements there and start asking around for Sanchez and his followers. Hopefully the word would get back to the outlaw and he would come looking for the marshal.

Matt knew he was playing a dangerous game, that essentially he was the bait for the trap. Strangely enough that fact didn't worry him at all. Truth was he didn't care if he ever returned to Dodge or not. His two traveling companions came into town later. They had removed their Marshals badges and showed no sign of recognizing Dillon. The spare horses had been left in a grove about ten miles out of town. They may wander off, but it wouldn't really matter much now.

Matt got himself a room at the only hotel in town. It was a rundown place, not very clean and the bed was harder than the prairie floor to sleep on.

Almost a week went by, Matt walked around the small town with his Marshal's badge on display and visited every bar, telling anyone who would listen that he was here to get rid of the renegades, especially Sanchez. Of course most people had heard of Matt Dillon and his reputation already. He told them he knew he could outdraw the man, that he was much faster than Sanchez would ever be. It was a dangerous game, but what did it matter? What did anything matter? He had no direction any more.

Meantime the other two lawmen kept a watchful eye. They were waiting for Sanchez to ride into town to take down the big marshal who was bragging that he was faster than the outlaw.

Doc was right. Matt's mind was not always where it should be. That sixth sense that had saved his life so often was just not alert to the danger around the next bend or in the next alleyway.

This town, if you could call it that, was not much of a place. A few wooden buildings, most of the town's businesses – including several of the many bars, were still run out of tents. There was no law to speak of, and most of the inhabitants were running from something. Murderers, bandits, cattle rustlers, all could be found in this part of the territory. Matt recognized many faces from the wanted posters back in his office in Dodge. The long arm of the law did not reach this far, and most of the outlaws felt that it was just as safe for them as crossing the border into Mexico.

This morning Dodge City's Marshal was walking along what passed for a main street in this town. No stage lines stopped in this place, there was no telegraph or freight office, and no sidewalks to keep citizens up off of the churned up, dirt street where piles of garbage mixed with horse manure. Sometimes a breeze would pass through and clear the air of the pervading stench of overflowing cesspools for a while, but it didn't last for long.

He was planning to get some breakfast at the only place with halfway tolerable food. Not that he was hungry but he was trying to put on a good act. He was passing one of the old, tattered tents when four men jumped him. He managed to fight off the first two but the third hit him over the head with a rifle butt, it was pretty much over after that. They bound and gagged him and loaded him into a wagon and headed out of town. The whole thing took only minutes.

The Marshal's traveling companions watched the wagon leave town. They did not want to interfere in the fight. They were here to trap an outlaw and had already lost two men doing it. This was a chance to locate the renegades' hideout. They had to bide their time, it may be their only chance to track them down.

When Matt came to, he was tied to a bed in an old shack. His head hurt, but other than that and a few bruises he felt all right. It was dark outside. He must have been unconscious for some time. The ropes were tight and he worked at them for a while but failed to loosen them any. Eventually he gave up and closed his eyes. The throbbing in his head persisted.

He must have slept for several hours. He awoke because a jug of water was thrown in his face.

He opened his eyes to see a rough looking cowboy standing there. The man was unshaven and had probably not seen a bathtub in many months. His clothes were torn and he had a half smoked, unlit cigar hanging from his lips. He is holding a gun.

"So you're the big Marshal, you don't look so tough to me. I got a gun on you here, and I'm quite happy to use it. I'm goin' to cut you loose, and then we're going to walk out that door and mount up. I have two friends out there just in case you get any ideas. Mr. Sanchez wants to see you, he wants you alive, but he doesn't mind if you get roughed up a bit."

The man removes a knife from his boot using his left hand. Roughly he cuts the ropes restraining Dillon. "Now get up slowly and don't try anything." He steps back a little so the Marshal cannot reach him. Matt slowly untangles the ropes and manages to stand up. His head spins and he falls back,

"I told you not to try anything Mister."

On his second attempt he manages to stand and walks ahead of the outlaw through the door. There are indeed two other men waiting outside. The man with the gun indicates one of the horses. Looks like they had been to the trouble of bringing his big buckskin from the livery in town.

"Now mount up and no tricks unless you want another lump on your head."

Matt manages to do as the man says, his vision is a little blurred and he still feels dizzy, but somehow he gets on the horse and stays there.

Meantime the other two lawmen are following, but at a distance. They are both good trackers and their trail skills are certainly above average, but the outlaws are cunning and have several men posted around the shack where Dillon spent the night. They are situated so that anyone riding in would be seen long before they got anywhere close. As the renegades set off the next morning they post men way behind them on the trail. There is no way for the two federal lawmen to get near. They just have to be content to stay a mile or more behind and follow the tracks as best they can. The last thing they want to do is loose the Dodge City lawman. This is the closest to locating Sanchez they have ever come.

The evening stage was a little late pulling in to Dodge. The heat had been bad that day and Jim, the driver, had not pushed the horses too hard. He jumped down from the box and opened the coach door to let the passengers exit into the stagnant air. There were four passengers that evening. He only knew one of them. Miss Kitty had joined the stage at a relay station east of Dodge. He helped her to step down onto the boardwalk.

"I bet you're glad to be home Miss Kitty. I'm sorry the trip took a little longer than planned." She gives him a half smile as she looks around. It has been almost two months since she last saw these dusty streets. Instead of heading towards the Long Branch, she crosses the street and goes over to the Dodge House. There are not many people around, she is grateful for that but can't help looking along the street to the brick building that houses the Jail and the Marshal's office.

The clerk is not sure why Miss Kitty would be needing a room at the hotel, after all she has her own set of rooms over at the Long Branch, but he says nothing and hands over the key to room twelve.

Kitty is looking out the window, which faces on to Front Street. Her eyes are a little misty as she thinks of the eight years she has spent in this town. It is painful to think of all the times, good and bad, that had taken place here.

She looks up and down the street but doesn't see the tall figure with the distinctive walk and the metal badge, strange, he is usually around at this time of evening. Then her eyes find someone she has never seen before, a younger man, not as tall. He has a similar star on his chest and is coming from that brick building across the street and heading for Delmonico's. There is another man with him, a man she certainly recognized. That stiff right leg was unmistakable. Still no sign of the tall man she was looking for. Maybe that was a good thing. She was here for business, but signing the papers that would end her ownership of the Long Branch would be a hard thing to do. Sure she would get a good price for it, but it was not easy to give up something she had worked so hard for, and had been so proud of. She began to think that maybe she had been a little hasty in making her decision. She had known what Matt was like from the start. Known that she could never compete with that badge. She had never meant to give her heart to him, but it had happened non-the-less. She should have expected the broken dates, the weeks he was gone out of town, not to mention the numerous times she had felt that horrible dread as he would face down a killer or two right there on Front Street. She had accepted it for years – and then this last time it was like everything boiled over. To late to change it now. She knew that if she had stayed here it would be the same thing over and over again. Nothing would change.

There was one person she had to go see. The crusty old physician had been so much more than a friend since her first day in Dodge. Having changed out of the dust-ridden clothes she had travelled in, she put on a lighter dress, more suitable for the hot summer evening, and then headed along to Doc's office. Several people greeted her as she walked along the boardwalk, "'evening Miss Kitty," … "nice to see you back Miss Kitty," and so on. She could hear the familiar sound of the piano coming from the saloon she owned. Business seemed to be flourishing. She was so tempted to pass through the swing doors and say hello to all her regulars. She was sure that Sam would be there, pulling beer and keeping order at the bar in his customary soft manner. She hesitated for a minute, unsure if the decision she had already accepted was the right one to make. Her pensive mood was broken by sounds of a fight coming from the Texas Trail – not that unusual. Matt was there breaking up fights at least three or four times a week. The Marshal would probably be seen pacing up the street in that direction any minute. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing him again. She watched as the fight burst out on to the street, any minute now and he would be there. But that was not what happened. The young man she had seen earlier from her window appeared, broke up the fight and had people move along. He was quiet, efficient and people called him Deputy Ross. No sign of Marshal Dillon. What had happened? Had Matt finally got himself some help? Probably he was sitting at the jail with his long legs propped up on that old desk of his.

She continues on her way to the steps that lead up to Doc's office. Of course her dear friend is delighted to see her. She throws her arms around him and is unable to hold back a tear or two.

"Doc it's so good to see you."

"You too Kitty, when did you get in."

"I came on the evening stage. I see nothing much has changed around town."

"You've only been gone for a few weeks, what did you expect?"

She didn't want to ask the inevitable question, and the Doctor surely didn't want to have to tell her of the circumstances of Matt's departure.

"I hear you are planning to sell the Long Branch Kitty."

'That had been my plan, I just don't know if I'm doing the right thing. Walking along Front Street just now seemed so much like I was home. Everyone greeting me, they were all thinking that I was back to stay. I am so confused. Doc I need to talk to Matt. I didn't see him on the street. Has he got himself a new Deputy? About time they approved one for this territory."  
It is silent for a few seconds.

"Here Kitty," Doc pulls another chair up to his desk, "sit down a minute, I need to talk to you."

"What is it, Matt's all right isn't he, I mean nothing bad has happened?"

Adams could see the panic rising in her face. For that same moment Kitty had the horrible feeling that Matt had been shot down by some gunman, probably right there on Front Street. Her stomach started to well up, till she thought she would be physically sick.

"No, no," said the Doctor hurriedly, "as far as I know he's fine."  
He proceeds to tell her of the three federal men coming to town and Matt leaving to go help them catch a killer.

"Why him? There are other Marshals they could send. "It's not even in his territory."

"They needed him because of his reputation, they thought he was the only one who could draw this renegade out."

"You mean he is being used as bait," she screams. "And he went along with that."

The Doctor just nods.

"Its my fault isn't it Doc? He didn't care what happened to him. If I'd have been here he might…"

"Kitty, don't even think that for a minute. You know how Matt is better than anyone. He does what he thinks is right, and no one can change his mind. If you were here or not it would have made no difference."

She nods and gets a small white handkerchief from her purse to dab her eyes.

"Come on now, Matt can take care of himself." He wished he felt as confident as his words. His friend's state of mind when he had left Dodge was not what was needed when heading into a dangerous situation.

"Let me take you to supper, I'm sure half of Dodge wants to welcome you home."

She nods her head and as the physician puts on his jacket and collects his hat, she tries to compose herself once more before heading out to Delmomico's.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Matt was glad they had brought his horse along. This animal was big enough for him to sit comfortably, even in his present state. If the throbbing in his head would quit he wouldn't feel too bad. He was hoping that the other two lawmen were somewhere behind and that all his efforts would not be in vain. He watched how the renegades posted guards way back along the trail to stop anyone following, but he had already witnessed the abilities of the marshal and his deputy, and felt sure they would manage just fine.

They rode for many hours, the sun was past its high point in the sky. Matt had had nothing to eat or drink since the night before and the heat was beginning to drain what little energy he had. He could not show weakness now. His strength and reputation was what was needed to lead them to Sanchez.

They were well off of any marked trail by the time the man who had woken him that morning, called for a rest.

He was instructed to get off his horse and walk over to a small scrubby tree. One of the renegades came towards him carrying a gun and a canteen of water. He kept the gun pointed at Matt as he handed him the canteen.

"Drink," was all he said.

Dillon drank slowly at first, then more deeply.

"That's enough, now put your hands behind your back." The Marshal thought he could probably knock this man to the ground and make an escape. There had been a small outcrop of rocks he noticed just before they stopped. Of course that would not accomplish the job he was here to do, so he obeyed the order. His guard bound his wrists behind him and then instructed him to sit so that he could tie his legs.

"Now don't try anything. Remember what Simpson told you. We ain't gonna kill you but we can sure make you hurt bad. You don't stand a hope of getting away. We know every inch of this land. You just sit there quiet like while we take care of things."

Matt said nothing. The water had definitely cleared his head. He noted that the outlaws took time to water the horses and loosen the cinches so they could catch their breath. That probably meant they had a good way still to go.

Meantime the other lawmen had arrived at the shack, they searched it pretty thoroughly but found nothing of interest. It had just been used as an overnight stopping place. They left the shack behind them and continued to follow the group of horsemen. They just had to take care not to get too close, if they were seen it would jeopardize the whole plan.

"Honestly Marshal," said Deputy Kincaid, "do you think this plan has a hope of working. Just two of us against twenty or so of them."

"I don't see much way to bring a whole company of troopers in here. These men obviously know this part of the country and could scatter before the army got within ten miles of them. More than likely they'd hide out along the trail and pick them off one by one. This is the only way it will work."

"What about Dillon, you think he has any chance of making it out of this alive?"

"He knew the score before he agreed to do the job. The important thing is to get Sanchez."

"Yes Sir, I know that."

They had mounted back up and were following the trail once again. It was a pretty easy thing to do. A dozen or more horsemen couldn't help but leave tracks a blind man could follow.

After they had rested for what was probably an hour, the renegades untied him and Dillon and his captors rode for another 5 hours before stopping. As far as Matt could see there was nothing around for miles.

"Okay Marshal, get off your horse." Obediently he stepped down. It occurred to him that he should put up a little resistance, these people were going to get suspicious if he came along too easily. One of his captors came up behind him with a rope and a bandana. When he got close enough Matt lashed out, hitting the man around the face with a strong back-hand swing. Another of the outlaws came up to help. He managed to punch him hard in the belly and as the man doubled over he caught him with an uppercut to the jaw. In fast order Matt had managed to put three of the men out of action, but eventually his winning streak was halted by rifle butt being swung hard across his back. It knocked the wind out of him and he fell to the ground. The men he had fought came around to take revenge for their humiliation and he received several powerful kicks to the ribs. All he could do was curl into a ball and try to avoid the worst.

Eventually it stopped, the man with the rope returned, a couple of the others joined in and yanked his arms behind him. His wrists were tied and then, before he could do anything else they blindfolded him.

He was hauled to his feet.

"Come on now, back on your horse." Rough hands pushed him forward till he felt the buckskins neck against his chest. Someone else must have been holding the reins. "Now put your foot in the stirrup." He did as he was told, and he felt many hands pushing him up into the saddle.

"Hey," he complained, "why don't you tie my hands in front of me so at least I can hold onto the saddle horn?"

"No way Mister, you just stay up there as best you can."

Fortunately it was not a problem for him, the buckskin had a sure steady gait, but putting on a show was necessary. They rode about another hour or so before he felt the men rein in the horses.

Someone came up behind him and he felt the steel of a knife as it sliced through the rope holding his wrists.

"Now get down. Don't touch that blindfold."

Matt did as he was told. The movement sent a spasm of pain through his recently bruised ribs but he managed not to show it.

The horses were led away and he was pushed along from behind. He felt they were going inside, away from the heat of the sun. He heard a door opening and was pushed through the opening. The door slammed and he was alone. Keys turned in locks. He lifted his hands to remove the blindfold. It was almost dark in the room where he found himself. A lamp was on the table together with some matches. He struck one of them and lit the lamp. There is a pitcher of water. He reaches for it and takes a long drink. He figures he has not eaten in twenty-four hours or more, but at least he has water. There is a bed of sorts along one wall and gingerly he lies down. His head is still hurting, but right now the ribs are worse. He must have dozed for a while, and awakens to a key turning in the lock. Looking in that direction there is a guard escorting a young Indian woman who is carrying a tray of food. She says nothing, just places it on the table and leaves.

The guard looks at him. "Mr. Sanchez wants you to keep your strength up, so eat."

They leave and Matt walks stiffly over to the table. The food looks good and he tastes it. It is the first time in several weeks that food has tasted good to him. He's not sure why they are treating him this well, but before they change their minds and come take it away, he starts eating.

Miles away in Dodge City two other people are sitting down to a meal at Delmonico's. People come up to Kitty and say how good it is to have her back. Finally as they are finishing up, Chester finds them.

"Well Doc," he scolds, "Why in tarnation are you keeping Miss Kitty hidden away in here?" He tips his hat, "Miss Kitty it sure is good to see you back. The place just hasn't been the same without you."

"Oh for heavens sake Chester, sit down and eat something."

Before long Kitty forgets that she is about to sell the Long Branch, about to leave Dodge forever. She gets to smiling and then laughing at these two men as they exchange their typical banter. It's been so long since she laughed.

Finally Doc turns to Chester. "Say have you heard anything from er….well you know, have you heard anything. I thought maybe that deputy would have some news."

"No Doc, we haven't heard a thing." He glances towards Kitty.

Doc passes his hand across his mustache and shakes his head.

The Doctor decides it is time to move on

"C'mon Kitty, let me buy you a drink at the Long Branch."

There are multiple shouts of welcome as Kitty enters the saloon, but the one that catches her ear is a soft spoken "Welcome Home Miss Kitty," from Sam as he passes two glasses of whisky to Doc.

The physician takes them over to the table where they have all spent so many evenings in the past. He pulls out a chair for Kitty and signals for her to sit down.

"Doc this isn't fair," she tells him. "You are trying to persuade me to stay. This isn't what I planned."

"Nothing of the kind young lady, I just don't want you to make a mistake that's all."

After all the welcoming is done, the usual noises of the saloon return. Soon she begins to relax and feel at home. Just one person is missing.

She hears Chester's distinctive footsteps coming up behind her. He has the young deputy with him.

"Miss Kitty I want you to meet Deputy Ross. He's looking after Dodge till Mister Dillon gets back."

She extends a hand towards him and gives that winning smile.

"Nice to meet you, Deputy. Sam, bring a bottle and some more glasses over here if you would, oh and a beer for Chester." She knew that the jailer preferred a beer on these hot evenings.

Kitty's mind wandered as the men were talking. The buyer was coming in on the Santa Fe in the morning. She only had about twelve hours to decide what she really wanted to do.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Matt finishes his meal and returns to the cot. Soon he is sleeping again.

There is light coming through the small barred window when he wakes. The locks on the door rattle, once more the guard opens the door and the Indian woman lays a breakfast tray on the table. Matt is not sure where this is going. Maybe it's like feeding the condemned man. The coffee is good and the rest of the food matches it, so condemned or not he might as well not let it go to waste.

Several more hours pass before the door is unlocked again and a man walks in. From his bearing Matt is fairly sure that this is Jeremiah Sanchez. He is a tall very thin man with a wiry mustache. He has a small scar on his left check and also, he notes, a finger missing from his left hand.

"Make yourself comfortable, Marshal Dillon," the man says. "I heard rumors that you were looking for me." He pauses for a cynical laugh. "So you think you can beat me in a fair gunfight, ha!" He almost spits the word out.

"Mebee."

"Strange you should come looking for me just to put your life on the line, you must have another reason."

"I am here to put an end to you and your band of renegades."

The man gives a raucous belly laugh. "That is real funny, Marshal. What makes you think that you, by yourself, are able to take me and at least twenty of my men?"

"I figure I am fast enough to take you Sanchez. That is of course if you have the courage to stand up and face me."

Again the man laughs that deep belly laugh.

"Marshal, don't you realize I can have my men finish you right here and now – there is no need for me to fight you. I think you had another reason for coming."

Matt's mind is clearer and more focused than it has been for several weeks.

Somehow he has to drag this out, give the marshal and his deputy time to get situated. Then he has to get Sanchez to take his challenge.

"You're right Sanchez, I was worried that you were moving up into my territory. I figure I can take you down a peg before you do that. I've worked hard to tame that part of Kansas and I'm not about to let you ruin it."

"You came here alone?"

"You don't see anyone with me do you?"

"Where would you suggest we have this gunfight, Marshal?"

Sanchez stares hard at the big man. He goes to the table and checks the coffee pot. It is cold and almost empty.

He takes it to the door and calls out "Hey Simpson, bring us some more coffee."

This man is difficult for Matt to understand. Here he is planning a gunfight over a cup of coffee like it is a Sunday afternoon conversation.

"Anywhere that suits you. You seem to hold the aces right now. Of course I would like to have my own gun back."

"We could arrange that. I tell you Dillon, I have my men out there looking to see if anyone has been trying to follow you, if they find anyone, I will have you all killed. I don't like people trying to make me look a fool. If they see that you are alone, I may well take you up on your challenge. It would certainly look good for me when I outdraw the great Marshal Dillon."

He finishes his coffee and stands up to leave.

"In the meantime, Marshal, I suggest you get all the rest you can. Don't cross my men here, they can make it rough on you. I need to think of a place for our little meeting, I want as many people as possible to watch me take down the famous U S Marshal."

He heads for the door and calls for Simpson to let him out. Matt hears the locks turn behind him. The man is still laughing as his voice fades into the distance.

Meantime Marshal Cummins and his Deputy followed far behind. They found the place where the renegades first stopped. They could tell from the tracks that they had rested here for at least an hour, and like Dillon concluded that that meant there was still a good way to go. They continued slowly, not wanting to be found by any of Sanchez' men who might have been left behind to watch.

It was several more hours before they came across the place where they had bound and blindfolded the Dodge City Marshal. They could read the signs that some kind of a fight took place here, but saw no blood. They could also tell that the Marshal's horse was being ponied when they left. Assuming that this meant they were getting close, they decided to camp here for the night. Not wanting to light a fire they dined on cold trail rations – little knowing that Dillon fared much better for his evening meal.

Early next morning they walked around the area looking for tracks and trying to get the general direction that the outlaws were following. They knew they are getting close now. In the distance they see two men on horseback, just riding aimlessly, or so it seems. Cummins believed they were looking for any signs that someone was following them. The lawmen must be very careful. Men could be hidden out in these rocks and gullies. Of course that did work both ways and offered them some cover as well.

They rode a little further on horseback and then proceeded on foot, staying away from the tracks that had been left. Finally from their vantage point among the rocks and scrub they saw a wooden building that backed into a hillside. It looks like half the building has been hollowed out from the rock and then a wooden structure has been built in front. Men are coming and going through the only entrance they could see. This must be the place they had been searching for, for a long time. After a while a tall thin man, a little better dressed than the others they have seen, rode up and handed his horse off to a rough looking cowboy. They exchanged a few words and then he disappeared inside.

"You think that's him, Marshal?"

"I think it is a good bet. Now all we can do is wait and see if Dillon can get him drawn into a gunfight, or at least get him out in the open."

Kitty had hardly slept that night. Doc had walked her back to the Dodge house, offering to see her to her room, but she had said goodnight to him there at the entranceway. Several times during the evening she had got involved in the conversations of her old friends and several other familiar faces who had stopped by to say hello. At one point she even forgot the real purpose of her visit.

Thinking about that, the buyers would be arriving on the Santa Fe in the morning. By noon the Long Branch would no longer belong to her. There would be nothing to keep her in Dodge. She would have some money in her pocket and could go anywhere she chose.

Sam had told her that her suite over the Long Branch was still there, waiting for her, but somehow she could not bring herself to climb those stairs.

Now she alternated sitting on the bed and getting up to walk to the window. She wished Matt were here. She really needed to talk to him, but in the end she knew he would tell her that the decision had to be hers. Men, she sighed, especially that overgrown cowboy with the bright badge on his chest. Deep down she knew her feelings for him would never change, eight years or eighty, no one would ever feel as right for her as he did. But was that loud and beat up saloon with its rough trail hands and fancy card sharks really where she wanted to spend her life? Where were the little house, the loving husband and the family that she also wanted? Where did they fit in? What kind of life was here, just waiting for those nights when Matt was in town, waiting for him to climb those stairs to her rooms so that they could find comfort in each other's arms, catching a brief conversation on Front Street, or sharing a meal, so often interrupted, at Delmonico's. The quick smiles and glances he would give her over the doors of the Long Branch as he passed by on some other errand. These were not really the things that made a life together with someone. Then there were the bad things, watching him get shot by some gunman, often right there on Front Street, watching Doc dig bullets out of him and nursing him through the pain and fevers. All the times he rode back into town so exhausted he hardly had the strength to remove his boots. Those times hurt her so badly. Worst of all she knew he would ride off and do it all again tomorrow if the duty of that damned badge called him, even if he had already made a commitment to do something with her.

Finally she lay on the bed and fell into a restless sleep.

She was awakened by knocking at her door, and then a familiar voice calling out.

"Kitty, are you awake? It's Doc."

"Just a minute Doc." She grabbed her soft green robe and put it over her nightgown. She opened the door.

"Come in Doc, you're here early."

"Its not that early young lady. I thought we just about had time for breakfast before the Santa Fe gets in."

"Oh yes, the Santa Fe."

"You don't look like you slept too well."

Doc is as observant as usual.

"No I didn't," she admits. "Doc I am so confused, I thought I knew what I wanted and now I'm not so sure. You haven't heard any news of Matt I suppose."

He shakes his head and wipes his palm across his mustache. Pulling on his ear he said, "No Kitty, I haven't. You get dressed and I'll meet you downstairs in thirty minutes, we'll go get some breakfast."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

It was late that evening before Sanchez returned. Matt was getting bored with his isolation and felt impatient to get on with the task in hand. He was almost grateful when the outlaw showed up again.

"Looks like you were telling the truth Dillon, my men can't find a trace of anyone following you. There is certainly no army or large posse out there. I don't really believe that you were crazy enough to get yourself into this situation with no back-up, but that is sure how it seems."

Dillon says nothing.

"I've been thinking about our gunfight." He is walking around the room, relishing every minute of this feeling of power.

"You know what I would like to do?" The Marshal didn't feel he was obliged to answer that question. "I'd like to take you down on the streets of Dodge City so that all the respectable people there who hold you in such high regard, could watch you fall face down in the dust. I could do that you know Dillon."

"If that's how you want it." The Marshal was thinking that that might make things better for everyone. If the other two lawmen out there realized where they were headed, it would be easy to set a trap long before they made it back to the town.

"Of course I know I can't do that, too many troopers out there at the Fort, too many guns against us. Oh don't worry Dillon I could take you down but I am thinking of all my men. A lot of them would get hurt. No I think the only place is right here, tomorrow morning."

Dillon just hoped he had given the other men enough time.

"I'll be ready," he said. "You won't forget my gun will you?"

"Oh no, I want this fair and square, everyone's gonna know I took you down in a fair fight. No excuses."  
He was laughing to himself as he left the room.

Left alone once more after Sanchez left, Dillon stared out of the small barred window. He saw no sign of the two federal lawmen that were supposed to be following him. That was how it should be, he just had to believe that they were there, and hope that somehow he could get Sanchez out in the open where if, for some reason, he himself did not succeed in killing the renegade, they could get a good shot at him,

He heard a key turning the door lock and the man known as Simpson came in carrying the Marshal's gun belt and colt revolver. Matt could see all the bullets had been removed from the belt and he presumed the gun had been given the same treatment. Simpson was not a talkative man.

"Here, Mister Sanchez wanted you to have these." He threw them on the table together with a cloth and some oil to clean the weapon. "He told me to tell you that you'll get what bullets you need in the morning."

Surprisingly Matt slept well that night. His ribs were still sore, but he had a sense of purpose in his life once more. He thought of Kitty and felt a gut wrenching loss because she was out of his life. At the same time he knew that as long as he wore this badge he had only uncertainty to offer her and she deserved so much more that that.

Doc and Kitty were eating breakfast at Delmonico's. She did not have much of an appetite this morning. Her decision to sell the Long Branch and leave Dodge weighed heavily on her. She was so proud of the day that her name went up there proclaiming to the world that Kitty Russell owned that establishment. She had worked for every penny it took to bring that about and finally the good citizens of Dodge had come to respect her for her achievement. But what if she stayed here. She knew she was hopelessly in love with that Cowboy of hers and things between them would never change as long as he wore that badge.

Doc watched her as she pushed the food around her plate, knowing that there was nothing he could do to help.

It was then that they both heard Chester's uneven footsteps. He tipped his hat. "Mornin' Miss Kitty, Doc. Barney gave me this telegram to bring over to you Miss Kitty, he said it might be important."

Kitty opens it up and reads. She smiles a little.

"What is it?" asks Doc.

"The people that were coming to meet me here this morning have been delayed, it may be several more days before they arrive." She was surprised by the sense of relief she felt. The Long Branch would be hers for a while longer – and Matt could return any day.

Matt was awake as the early morning light started to filter through the small window of, what amounted to, his cell.

He went to sit at the small table and cleaned his gun as he has done many times before. Breakfast arrived as usual, but his appetite was not so good. Too many things could go wrong.

Some time later Simpson returned. "I hope you're ready, Dillon. Mister Sanchez is expecting you. You best be strapping ya gun on ya hip. It'll probably be for the last time." He laughed at his own joke.

Strangely Matt felt no anxiety, he hoped he was fast enough to take Sanchez, and if not that Cummins and Kincaid would be able to finish the job. There was a good chance that none of them would survive this next hour or so. After all three of them did not stand a very good chance against twenty or so men. Cummins' theory was that if they could get Sanchez out of the way, the rest would give up without much of a fight.

The two lawmen had worked their way closer to the camp during the night. As dawn approached they saw new men coming out to replace the guards who had been there all night. They figured if they can take these new men out, they would not be missed for quite a while. During the war years, both men had received training in how to kill quietly and efficiently, this kind of mission was not new to them. Working their way around the wide perimeter set by the outlaws, they eliminated the men between them.

Something was obviously about to happen, they watched as a man appeared and gave each of the renegades instructions on where they were to be, and probably what was expected of them. Still no sign of the Dodge City Marshal, had he been able to convince Sanchez to stand up and fight him. Hopefully some way or another they would be able get a clear shot at him.

Eventually their patience was rewarded. Dillon is pushed out of the door from the shack. It was clear that the light was hurting his eyes for a few minutes. Then the man they had been looking for was standing there. He was certainly clever, standing back in the shadows and keeping a screen of men around him. The lawmen drew their weapons and waited.

Dillon found himself being pushed through the main door and out into the light of day. At first his eyes hurt from the brightness of the daylight after being locked in that cell for a few days. He squinted for a few minutes as he adjusted. He could see Sanchez back in the shadows. There were several men around him.

The renegade approached him – all smiles like they were preparing to go hunt antelope or something.

"I hope you slept well," he said.

He produced six bullets from his pocket "Here, three each – that should be enough."

Matt loaded the three he was given into the chamber of his gun, and watched as Sanchez did the same.

The man pointed to an open space in front of the building. "Out here will be a fine place. All my men will be watching me take down the great Marshal Dillon."

He directed Matt to one side of the clearing and he walked to the other – still surrounded by a number of his men. Matt noticed that the men started to retreat – but not far. He had the feeling that even if he won this fight, he would not survive. He hated killing – but this would be a just cause, and maybe he had the skill to do it.

Mentally he said goodbye to Kitty. He wished he could have seen her just one more time. Then he pushed all other thought aside as he turned to face the bandit.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Doc is secretly very happy that Kitty will be in Dodge for a few more days. Maybe if Matt can get back in that time, he can persuade her to stay. Of course he does not plan to tell her that.

"Kitty, that means you'll have to hang around a little longer."

"If I didn't know better I'd think you had something to do with that."

"Oh no..not me." Doc finds himself a toothpick and starts chewing on it.

"Seeing as I still have a business to run I'd better be over to the Long Branch and catch up on some book keeping."

Doc drops some money on the table and escorts her across the street.

()()()()()

After eliminating the perimeter guards, Cummins and Kincaid managed to work their way to a closer position so as to have a good view of the events below. They watch as Sanchez hands something to the Marshal and then seems to indicate where he wants him to stand. Sanchez is yelling something to Matt, but the two men are unable to make out the words.

Finally the outlaw and the Marshal are facing each other.

"Hold your fire until we see what happens," says Cummins. "If Matt succeeds, the renegades may turn on him. Then we'll have to step in. If he misses we have to get Sanchez before his men have chance to protect him."

They crouched ready with loaded rifles. From here it would not be a difficult shot.

()()()()()

Matt watches Sanchez for what seems like minutes, but in reality is barely a second. He is waiting for that slight stiffening of muscle, or change in eye focus. His hand is ready, hovering over the handle of his gun. No room for any other thoughts in his mind. Sanchez shows the slightest movement. Matt is a fraction of a second faster. He fires two shots. Both find their mark. Sanchez only fires one before he hits the ground, and that goes wide.

Cummins and Kincaid emerge from their hiding place and rush down to the center of the confusion that has started.

"Hold it everyone," yells Matt. "Just drop your weapons and no one else will get hurt. Most of the men start to follow his instructions, especially when the other two lawmen appear, armed with rifles.

Simpson has ideas of his own. "You only have one bullet left Marshal, I'm gonna take you." Instead of throwing his gun away, he raises it and fires. Kincaid sees the movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns, aims and fires his rifle in a single movement. Simpson goes down.

Dillon feels a stinging around his right ribs. Looking down he sees a growing red stain on his shirt.

Cummins comes over to check, "Did he get you Matt?"

"Simpson there did, but I don't think its that bad. Let's get these men rounded up before they give us any more trouble. There's a fairly decent cell in there where we can lock 'em up for now."

"Kincaid and I took care of four others that were acting as perimeter guards. Two of them are dead, but the others will be coming round soon." He sends the deputy off to bring them to join the others.

Dillon goes over to see if he can find the key for the room he had been locked in, in Simpsons pocket.

The room was plenty big enough for the dozen or so men and with the door securely locked they were out of harms way for the time being. The problem was what to do with them now. The idea had been to hand them over to the army – after all they had been selling guns to the Indians, and generally trying to disrupt any peace within the nations.

It was decided that Matt would leave and head back to Dodge. He was anxious to know if there was any news of Kitty, but he would stop in the small Kansas town of Liberal on the way. There he could send a telegram to notify the army of the location of Sanchez's men and the Attorney General's office that the renegade was dead. He would file a detailed report later. Cummins and Kincaid would stay with the prisoners till the Army arrived.

Matt left that afternoon, in some ways he did not want to return to Dodge, but something kept telling him to head that way.

()()()()())()

Kitty was there at the table in the Long Branch, working on the account ledgers. She noticed that business had dropped of a little since she had been gone. Not drastically but enough to notice. Sam had kept things going somehow. She really should not have left him with all that responsibility.

She went to the stock room to check on what they would need to order from the drummer when he came round in the next day or so. Funny how she just fell back into this routine like she had never been away. It was strangely comforting. She finished up with making out the order sheets and then without thinking headed upstairs to her rooms. The old settee, the big brass bed, nothing had changed. She knew if she opened the wardrobe her dresses would all be there, just like before she left. She looked out the window onto Front Street. The scene was the same as on a hundred other days. She found herself looking into the distance to see if Matt was riding in. She had done that a hundred times before as well.

()()()()()

Matt rode till dusk came. If he camped here for the night he could easily make it in to Liberal in the morning. A couple of telegrams would take care of business then he could be on his way.

A man gets a lot of time to think out there on the trail. The gambler on the train had said the important thing in life was to figure out what you could throw away and what you should keep. He knew if he was honest with himself, if somehow Kitty ever came back to him, there was only one thing he needed to keep. Just one thing he could not live without.

He figured it was going to take him another three days before he got to Dodge. The first two days were fine. By the beginning of the third day he still had about forty miles to go. He woke up that morning with a bad headache and thought he had a fever. He forced himself to his feet and saddled the buckskin. He didn't bother with breakfast. He wasn't really hungry anyway. Climbing up in the saddle, he felt a warm sticky sensation on his right side and knew the wound that Simpson had inflicted was bleeding again. It would be all right. Somehow he would make it to Dodge.

Kitty, if she was honest with herself, had to admit that she had really enjoyed last evening in the Long Branch and afterwards she slept in her rooms over the saloon. When she awoke she realized she had become much too comfortable here – again just falling back into the old familiar routine. If she didn't leave soon she could see her determination fading, and then she would be back where she had been before circumstances gave her the strength to turn her back on Dodge.

She would have to leave by tomorrow at the latest.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

It was well past noon by the time Matt rode into Dodge. He knew that the best thing for him to do was to stop by Doc's office and have him fix up this wound from the bullet Simpson had fired. Fortunately it seemed to have stopped bleeding now, but no telling if there was any infection there.

He made it to the hitching rail at the foot of Doc's stairs, just as Deputy Ross was passing by. Noticing the difficulty Matt was having he went to lend a hand.

'You all right Marshal?" he asks. "I just got a telegram from Marshal Cummins that they were starting on their way back to Dodge and should be here in two or three days."

Matt was trying to reach for his rifle, canteen and bedroll.

"Here let me get those for you, I can take them down to the office."  
"Thanks – could you also take my horse to the livery and have Moss take care of him?"

"Sure – let me help you up to Doc's first."

"No I'll be fine. Thanks anyway."

Matt wearily makes his way up the steps and enters.

Doc is working on some young boy. He turns around in surprise.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" He sees the blood on his friend's shirt and goes over to take a look.

"Not too bad, here sit down and let me put a clean dressing over it – then go and lie down on the bed back there till I can set this arm for young Eddie. Then I'll take care of you." He has another thought and hands him a half full bottle of whisky, "And get some of that down you."  
Matt does as he's told. The thought of a bed is very appealing right now.

Doc returns to his task. He mixes some Plaster of Paris in a bucket and gets the bandages he will need. He hates having to pull on the limb to set it back in position, but young Eddie is very stoic and hardly complained.

Once that was done, he just had to apply bandages and the plaster to keep the bones in position so they could heal. It was then he had an idea. He looked at Jeremiah, Eddie's father, " I would appreciate it if you could do me a favor."

The man looked at him, "Anything Doc, you know I can't afford to pay you, I'll do anything I can to help."

"Go across to the Long Branch and tell Miss Kitty I need her help. No need to mention about the Marshal showing up, understand?"

"Sure thing Doc."

He returned in about ten minutes and Kitty was right behind him. She looked surprised to see the boy sitting on Doc's table. He obviously needed no help there.

Doc looked up from his task. The plaster was all over his hands and arms.

"I've got a patient in the back room there that I will need some help with. I wish you'd go and check on him for me while I finish up here."

"Sure Doc,"

"This wont take too long," he says over his shoulder. He is seemingly very focused on the cast he is making.

He watches as she opens the door, he hears her gasp when she realizes who it is.

"Matt," he hears, then she closes the door and the voices become muffled. He takes a little longer than necessary making a smooth finish to his work on the plaster cast, smiling quietly to himself all the while.

"Now you just sit there for a few minutes while that plaster hardens some, then you can be on your way home."

He went on to talk to Jeremiah telling him what problems to watch for and giving him some general instructions.

"We'll be okay Doc – hadn't you better go check on the Marshal back there?"

"No, he'll be fine for a few minutes."

He waited a little longer, then deemed the cast to be dry enough that it was all right for them to leave. He saw the man and his son down to their wagon, and then slowly climbed back up the stairs.

He knocked gently on the door to the back room and when he opened it, he was rewarded by a sight that warmed his heart. Kitty was sitting there by the bed holding her Marshal's hand in both of hers, talking softly to him.

Matt looked like he was almost asleep.

"C'mon Matt, let's get you on the table in here so I can clean that up for you. Then you can go get a good night's sleep."

He checked the whisky bottle.

"Get him to drink a little more of this Kitty, while I go get my instruments ready."  
For appearances sake Matt complained about the quality of whisky Doc served, which drew the obvious response that this was a doctor's office, not a bar.

It didn't take the doctor too long to clean and suture the wound left by the bullet. Fortunately it was just a crease and with a few days rest the Marshal would be fine.

"Does he need to stay here?" asks Kitty.

"No he should be all right. I do need to check him tomorrow though."

She turns to the man lying on the table.

"C'mon Cowboy, I'm taking you home."

Together they made their way down the steps and across the alley to the back stairs of Kitty's domain. She helped him get his boots off and adjusted the pillows so as to make him comfortable on the bed in her room.

From the lack of sleep of the previous few days, and the effects of Doc's whisky, Matt was asleep almost immediately. She leaned over and smoothed the hair back from his forehead.

"I'll be back to check on you later Matt," she says.

As she walks down the stairs to the saloon, there is a happiness in her heart. Things are as they should be. Even Sam notices a lightness in her step.

"I hear the Marshal's back Miss Kitty, he says softly."

She just smiles and nods to him. "So am I Sam, so am I."

After most of the evening's business is done, she goes back upstairs to check on Matt. He is already awake and grinning from ear to ear.

"Kitty, I was beginning to think I was dreaming when I saw you over there in Doc's office."

"No, it was real," she said.

"Well I couldn't be certain what with that rot gut whisky Doc dishes out."

She smiles. "We have to talk Matt, I think we both deserve some straight answers."  
"You're right." He goes on to tell her about the old Gambler he met on the train and how the man had been able to tell that something was troubling him. He told of the advice the old man gave him about deciding what things were most important in life, and what things you could let go of."

Matt always had a tough time expressing his feelings, but somehow he had to do it now, it may be his only chance.

"When I thought you were not coming back, that I would never see you again, I looked at this badge and thought how it was just a piece of metal, nothing more. I could live without it just fine…if I had you around. Kitty I would gladly give it up if you would stay with me. Not necessarily here in Dodge, but just somewhere that the two of us can be together."

She puts a finger over his lips.

"You forget cowboy, I know those cards too, and I have been doing some thinking of my own. Cards are different to life. In a card game you can always stay at the table for another round. In life you only get one hand to play. I've grown attached to this wild saloon, to its cowboys and drifters, and to all the things that make Dodge what it is. I don't think I understood that until a few days ago. Maybe I'm not ready to give them up yet either, and I certainly don't want you to give up that badge till you are good and ready. I can't guarantee that I won't get mad at you again – I might even take off and leave again one day, but right now let's just enjoy what we have. We don't have to throw anything away. For a little longer things can go on the way they are. Doc told me how you were after I left town. I know you are not very good at telling me how you feel, but Doc can read both of us - without even putting his spectacles on."

They both smiled. Taking a big breath Matt uttered something she thought she never would hear him say. "I love you Kitty Russell, and one day, if it is in my power, I will take us both away from all this and we will be together for always."

She buried her face in his chest and he could feel the warm tears. He held her tight until the moment passed.

Epilogue

It was several days later that two figures could be seen walking hand in hand up on Boot Hill. The tall man carried a small marker in his hand and the woman stayed close to his side. They made their way over to a recent grave.

It seemed only right that they should come to say thank you to the man whose words had made them stop to think and saved them from giving up something so important to each of them.

The man knocks the marker into the ground with the butt of his gun. It says simply "The Gambler". They stand there for a few minutes. They are the only ones around. As they descend the hill once more, the man takes the woman in his arms and they exchange a kiss. Then both turn and look back at the grave before he helps her up into the buggy. He climbs up beside her and they drive away.

The End.


End file.
